


Fated

by sunnyangel (orphan_account)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Cancer, Character Death, Chronic Illness, Death, Hospital, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Pain, Sad, predebut, smrookies era, smrookies jaeyong, this is sad I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sunnyangel
Summary: My fate Taeyongie hyung, from trainee period until now, we completely didn’t fall apart. This is as good as fate, right? We’re already fated, so until death let’s be fated, hyung.I love you. I’ll be dreaming of you, hyung.Sincerely yours,Jaehyun
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Fated

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags carefully. mentions of death and blood would be included in this fic. 
> 
> again, read the tags.
> 
> ps. this is unedited hehe
> 
> \- sab (twt: yzhangml)

**April, 2014**

There’s this boy that always leaves a flower near Taeyong’s bag.

First is a simple white rose. Its stem is long, and the thorns are still there when he had found it lying delicately over the strap of his training bag on the floor. The stench of sweat inside the now empty practice room ran under his nose, but the scent almost went unnoticed when he sees the flower lying near his bag, its petals a contrast to the dark straps connected on each side of his belonging. Who could have left it, he wonders, as he quietly picks up the flower in between his fingers, careful as to not prick himself with its thorns. 

His skin glistens under the bright lights from the practice room’s ceiling, the sides of his arms damp with a thin layer of sweat. It’s almost way past midnight, and he is supposed to be on his way back to the dorms already to rest, but the sudden appearance of the flower near his bag has piqued his interest.

“Hyung!” Doyoung calls upon opening the door. “Donghyuck and Mark are fighting again!”

Taeyong turns to him and lowers his hand, a poor attempt to hide the flower away from his friend’s sight. “What is it this time?” he asks as a set of laughter breaks out from the empty hallway.

Doyoung glances back from behind him, hand still gripping the door knob. “Mark doesn’t want to go home yet,” he says, turning back to face the older. “He said he still wants to practice some more.”

Taeyong sighs, a few strands of his dark hair falling over his eyes. He places the rose gently on top of his bag before walking towards the doorway, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Doyoung notices the flower and sends him a questioning look, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. “Who’s that from, hyung?”

“I don’t know,” Taeyong shrugs. Doyoung closes the door behind them, and the two of them start to walk towards the other occupied practice rooms. Yuta and Hansol meets them halfway through, snickering quietly while Jeno and Jaemin tries to peek inside one of the designated rooms for dancing. The two thirteen-year-old boys lightly pushed against each other’s shoulders, trying to take a look past the small space they have created from the door.

Taeyong taps them both lightly on their heads. “What are you doing?”

Jeno whips around at his voice. “Hyung!” he grins. “They’re fighting again!”

“Donghyuck’s bothering Mark, again. Says he wants to go home already because he’s hungry,” Hansol starts to scratch the back of his head, his roots already showing from his dyed hair. “Mark wants to stay back with us, but Donghyuck’s been very persistent.”

Jaemin snorts and pushes the door open, revealing a very distressed looking Mark and a grinning Donghyuck.

“Why do you want me to go home with you? If you’re hungry, then have someone else cook for you!” Mark turns away from Donghyuck, the usually soft-spoken kid now almost shouting as frustration bubbles up inside of him. Taeyong gently grabs his shoulder when he tries to walk past him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Mark shakes his head. “Nothing, hyung.”

Jeno peeks out from behind Taeyong. “Hyuck-ah,” he calls out. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not!” Donghyuck starts to protest but sees Hansol shaking his head at him, causing him to act like he’s finally zipping his mouth.

Taeyong turns back to look at Mark who still seems to be fuming, his ears red and shoulders tensed. The fourteen-year-old boy rarely feels any negative emotions, but Donghyuck seems to always be the one who has the ability to rile him up.

“Alright,” he sighs. “That’s enough. It’s already late, so you should start packing up now.”

“Even us?” Jaemin points at himself and Jeno.

Taeyong nods. “Especially you kids. Doyoung and I will take you back to the dorms. Manager is already waiting for us.”

“Can’t I stay?” Mark lifts his head to meet his gaze, his doe-like eyes staring deeply into Taeyong with such intensity that it rattles him for a moment.

_Tsk. This kid._

_“_ You have school tomorrow,” Taeyong tells him. “You can always practice after that. You all need to rest.”

Mark pouts at him, lowering his head to stare at the floor and his shoes. Taeyong proceeds to ruffle his hair before going back to where he left his bag unattended, Doyoung trailing quietly behind him as they trudged along the hallway of the company. They pass by some of the female trainees’ practice room, hearing the faint beats of a familiar song that is yet to be released sometime this August. Taeyong remembers something about Seulgi and Joohyun talking about a mishap within the line-up for Red Velvet as he starts to hum the song’s chorus, wondering quietly all to himself when the project for SM’s new boy group would be finalized.

“Why do you have a rose with you, by the way?” Doyoung asks him once they finish cleaning up the practice room. "Did another trainee give it to you?”

Taeyong shrugs, sparing a quick glance at the rose he is holding. “I just found it lying beside my bag. I don’t know who’s it from, though. I went to the comfort room while the others were packing up earlier, and when I came back, it’s suddenly there.”

“You think it’s from our group?”

Taeyong shrugs again, not really that curious enough for him to ponder on who the flower might be from. Maybe from another secret admirer? Those are common within their circle, but he doubts it.

They meet Yuta and Hansol again when they reach the elevator, this time with Ten trailing behind them, yawning. The three of them raised an eyebrow at the rose Taeyong is holding, curious.

“Oh?” Ten grins at him. “Who is that from, hyung?”

Taeyong shrugs, not knowing what to tell them. “I think he has a secret admirer,” Doyoung snickers from behind him.

Yuta snorts. “Remember when Johnny received a love letter from a female trainee last year? I bet it’s one of those again!”

“Eh?” Hansol tilts his head to the side as he towers over the four of them. “Wasn’t Jaehyun asking for a rose from manager hyung earlier?”

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “Jaehyun?”

“Oh, yeah, he was!” Ten nods at them. “But why would he give it to you, though?”

Taeyong shrugs his shoulders. “Uhm, where’s Mark and the others?” he asks to divert the topic from him and the rose he received.

“Manager hyung went and picked them up after you two left,” Yuta tells him, one hand going up to cover his mouth while he yawns again. “He said there’s another car waiting for us outside the building so we better hurry up.”

Taeyong nods, and the five of them wordlessly pile inside the elevator after that. Taeyong watches the doors slowly close in front of him, the white rose hanging limply in between his fingers.

-

Taeyong doesn’t know what he was expecting when Jaehyun came up to him the next day, still in his yellow school uniform that seemed almost too blinding under the bright lights of the practice room. Has it always been that bright of a shade? He doesn’t remember it being this vibrant up close when he was still attending SOPA (he’s only graduated this February, yet it already feels like it’s been so long since he last went to school.)

“Hyung,” Jaehyun smiles at him, bright and cheery, and somewhat blinding. He has his hands clasped in front of him, slender and pale fingers intertwined with each other against his knuckles, dark strands of hair falling just above his eyebrows. Taeyong’s eyes flicker onto the familiar set of dimples the younger has, staring absentmindedly at the soft corners of his cheeks and the way his lips tug at both ends with his ever so gracious smile that almost always seem to be a part of him and never away. “Did you get it?”

“Get what?” Taeyong asks. He leans down to tighten the laces on his rubber shoes.

Jaehyun starts to shift on his feet, his pair of slacks a bit too fitted against his legs. Taeyong lifts his head to look at him, eyes meeting the same ones that has always admired him from the very start. He notices that Jaehyun seems to stand taller now, broader and wider, too. The seventeen-year-old boy is growing up to be more confident than before, sharper and much, much wiser, but he is still soft at some sides, still gentle and quiet, and still the same fifteen-year-old he first met a couple of years ago.

“The rose,” Jaehyun tells him quietly. “Did you get it?”

“Ah,” Taeyong starts to look around the practice room. “Yeah, I got it. Was it from you?”

Jaehyun nods, his movements a bit hesitant with the way he tugs at the hem of his uniform’s coat. Taeyong watches him closely.

“What is it for, by the way?” he asks.

Jaehyun grins at him, eyes forming into little crescents, a deep set of dimples appearing at both side of his plump and flushed cheeks. He is bright and blinding, even brighter than the lights inside the practice room they are in, and Taaeyong cannot help but to let the faintest presence of a smile grace on his lips as well. Jaehyun shifts his weight onto his other foot, his fingers now starting to play with each other as he lowers his head shyly.

“Nothing,” he tells Taeyong. “I just wanted to give it to you. As a gift.”

Unpredictable. Jaehyun has always been unpredictable. Taeyong smiles at him. “Oh. Thank you, then. It’s kept away inside my room now.”

“Really?”

Taeyongs nods at him, watching as Jaehyun smiles at him for the third time, thinking just how stricking the red in his cheeks are today as a contrast to his pale skin. Jaehyun has always been pale, his skin paper white and as soft as silk, like gently carved ivory, but he seems to be paler than usual.

Out of all the trainees within the company, his relationship with Jaehyun had always been the one to remain a mystery even to him. He knows just how much the younger looks up to him, with his eyes always wide and curious and sharp whenever he asks him if his dancing improved, his voice just a little bit bigger, a little bit deeper whenever he tries to ask him if he did well with his evaluation, how he always seem to pick his words carefully whenever he talks about something and he is around. Taeyong knows Jaehyun had always been different to him, a presence that always lingers behind him, someone that has always followed him no matter what. He’s even seen Jaehyun in his most vulnerable state once, when the two of them had cried in front of each other one night after practice, with their backs pressed against the cold mirror, the stench of sweat masking the room.

Jaehyun had looked like a kid, then. A young boy who dreams, a young boy who only wants to move forward, to become better. But Taeyong knows, he knows. Jaehyun isn’t just some other trainee to him. He isn’t just a friend.

Where does he draw the line from then?

He watches Jaehyun just a little bit closer during practice that day. Jaehyun is lively and well, and he still dances with such precision that you cannot help but to let yourself get drawn to him. He smiles, and he laughs, and he talks like everyone else in the room will be listening to him. He sings with his rich voice that complements Doyoung and Taeil’s, and he sings with such confidence as if he knows the group wouldn’t be complete without his voice. Taeyong watches him carefully and thinks just how much Jaehyun has grown. How much he has improved.

He is reminded of the white rose that has taken shelter inside his dorm room’s nightstand. How its petals are so pale it could almost rival Jaehyun’s skin, how its thorns are sharp and deadly, and how it still looks pretty despite that. Jaehyun is like a white rose.

“God, I’m so tired,” Doyoung grunts beside him, slumping against the cold wall. “I still have to meet teacher for my singing lessons.”

Taeyong doesn’t tear his gaze away from Jaehyun. The younger continues to do his stretches with Yuta and Hansol. “Good luck.”

Doyoung grabs his water bottle, panting. “What about you? Are you going to practice some more after they dismiss us?”

Taeyong shrugs. Jaehyun meets his gaze from the mirror. He smiles at him.

Taeyong lowers his head and prerends he didn’t notice.

* * *

**June, 2014**

Taeyong stares at the yellow chrysanthemum lying on top of his bag, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hyung,” he hears Jisung call out to him from behind. “Can you help me with my tutting? I don’t want to get scolded again…”

Taeyong turns back to him. “Yeah, sure,” he says before guiding the youngest towards the other end of the room where the speakers are.

The two of them practice with their tutting, fingers growing tired and stiff not even an hour in as they try to synchronize their hands with the beats, the loud drumming of the speakers reverberating through the thick walls of the practice room. The chrysanthemum remains unmoving on top of his bag, its petals bright and somewhat blinding, and it reminds him of someone he knows. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his head, stuffy and damp, his skin glistening with liquid.

“Donghyuck hyung is going to be introduced tomorrow,” Jisung tells him when they finally take a break. His voice is quiet and small, the cap resting atop of his head too loose on the sides. Taeyong tilts it sideways. “He said he’s scared.”

“Hm,” Taeyong smiles at him. “It is scary.”

“Really scary,” Jisung shudders, remembering the exact day he was introduced as a Rookie. “People are mean.”

Taeyong nods at that. “They are,” he tells him. “Have you seen what others are saying about Seulgi noona and Joohyun noona’s video that was released just a few hours ago?”

Jisung shakes his head. Taeyong smiles gently at him and pinches his cheeks lightly. “Good,” he mutters. “It’s better if you don’t see them.”

“I’m kind of scared, hyung,” Jisung bites down on his lower lip, looking smaller than he already is. “What if I’m still not yet ready to debut after two years? I don’t want to let other people down.”

“You’ll do great, Jisung-ah,” Taeyong smiles at him. “People will love you.”

“I hope so…”

Taeyong turns to look at the flower once again. Jisung follows his gaze and rests his eyes on the yellow chrysanthemum resting on top of his hyung’s bag. “Who is that from?” he asks.

Taeyong tries to suppress a smile. He leaves his spot on the floor, fingers pushing against the floor to lift himself up before walking towards the other side of the room. Jisung trails behind him quietly, the twelve-year-old boy curious and slightly fascinated at the thought of his hyung having a secret admirer.

“What flower is that, hyung?”

“Chrysanthemum,” Taeyong says, fingertips lightly tracing the petals. “It symbolizes life and rebirth.”

“Ohh,” Jisung nods. “It looks pretty.”

 _It does_ , Taeyong thinks.

-

“What are the flowers for this time, Jaehyun-ah?” Taeyong asks the younger once he finally catches sight of him later that day inside the almost empty cafeteria.

“Hello, hyung,” Jaehyun grins at him, holding a tray of beef stew and rice. “Do you want to eat with me?”

Taeyong scans their surrounding. They are mostly alone inside the cafeteria aside from a few company staff going in and out to buy food. He spares a glance at Jaehyun’s food, realizing he has not eaten anything yet for the day after being too pre-occupied with practice.

“Okay,” he tells him, shrugging. “Go look for a table, then.”

Jaehyun is still smiling when he arrives at their table situated at the very far end corner of the room. Taeyong sets his food tray down and takes the seat across the younger, feeling his stomach grumble quietly at the sight of his own food.

Taeyong grabs his chopsticks and mutters a quiet thanks before digging in. “So,” he says mid-chew, “what’s the flower for this time, Jaehyunnie?”

Jaehyun’s face splits into a grin, and he continues to watch his hyung shove spoonful of rice into his mouth. “It’s a gift,” he says, picking up his own utensils with his free hand. “Treat it as a congratulatory gift, hyung.”

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For Open the Door!”

Taeyong feels his cheeks heat up at that. “Oh, right,” he mutters. “I almost forgot about that one.”

“I remember you telling Johnny hyung about the shoot last week. Are they going to release the whole song?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so?” Taeyong shrugs, hesitant. “We only shot a small part of it.”

“Are you scared? Netizens can be mean sometimes, hyung.”

Taeyong bites on his lower lip. Is he scared? Perhaps not. “I’m more nervous than scared, I think? I don’t know what people are expecting from me.”

“Regardless of what they say, I still think you’re one of the best!”

“You have too much faith in me, Jaehyun-ah,” Taeyong chuckles. “I don’t think I’m worth all of your praises.”

Jaehyun scowls are him. “Don’t say that, hyung! You should be more confident of yourself!”

“I’ll try,” Taeyong sighs. “No promises, though!”

-

Taeyong sits on the floor with his back pressed against the wall, panting, sweating while Johnny and Hansol continues to go over the routine they made for an upcoming video they were tasked to do about a month from now called the Super Moon project. They’re still only halfway through with the dance, but he can already feel himself growing sick of the dubstep music playing over and over again from the speakers.

“Taeyong, you need to be aware of your surroundings. You tend to lose your formation in between,” the dance instructor tells him, frowning. “You stay at the center, and always at the center.”

Taeyong nods at him, still panting. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry, I’m still losing my balance in between the steps.”

“Well, then work on that! We have less than a month before the shoot starts. The production team said that we can’t adjust the schedule again since it’s already long overdue!”

“Are filming most of the videos in advance?” Johnny interjects, panting. Hansol hands him a bottle of water. “Manager hyung told us we’re going to shoot a promotional video for Happiness with Yeri?”

“I thought it was moved?” Hansol asks.

Taeyong shrugs his shoulders and pushes himself back onto his feet. Their activities for SMRookies are slowly piling up, and while the idea of being on stage thrills him, he also cannot help but to lose track of almost everything. Is this how living as an idol feels like? Hopefully, when he debuts, their schedules wouldn’t be too hectic for them. Just the mere thought of running around from places to place almost every day already sounds draining. How do other people deal with it?

“Okay!” their dance instructor claps his hands twice. “Let’s start from the beginning again!”

Taeyong bites back a sigh.

-

“Taeyong hyung, do you have a band-aid?” Mark asks him upon entering their dorm. The house is way too quiet, probably because it’s already late in the night and almost everyone is already fast asleep. “Jaehyun hyung accidentally cut his hand with a knife.”

Taeyong removes his coat and sets it down onto the vacant couch near the doorway. He scans the place quietly, noticing a few pieces of paper scattered around the dusty floor, before turning back to look at Mark. The younger stared at him expectantly, eyes wide behind his crooked pair of glasses.

“I have some in my room,” he tells him, ruffling his hair when he walks past the kid. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring them to his room. You should go to sleep now.”

“Okay…” Mark nods at him. “Good night, hyung.”

“Good night, Mark.”

Taeyong visits Jaehyun’s room quietly that night, stopping by the doorway for a few seconds as he stares at the faint light spilling from the small space underneath the door. He knocks on it twice and listens to the familiar shuffling of feet from the other side. A click, followed by heavy breathing, and Jaehyun silently takes a peek from inside his room, eyes widening when he sees his hyung standing by the doorway, hair still damp from his recent shower. Jaehyun pulls open the door wider for him, not being able to stop himself from smiling when he gets the full view of Taeyong in a pair of sweatpants and a thick baby blue pullover.

“Hey,” Taeyong greets him, voice very still and quiet. “I heard from Mark that you cut your hand earlier? May I come in?”

Jaehyun spares a glance at the small first-aid kit the older is holding. He steps aside and lets him enter his small and slightly empty bedroom.

“Can I see?” Taeyong sits at the corner of Jaehyun bed, one hand stretching out to take both of Jaehyun’s hands.

Jaehyun lets him touch his skin; he lets him inspect every crevice of his hands, palms lightly grazing his hyung’s gentle fingertips. The wound on his right hand continues to throb.

“Have you cleaned this yet?” Taeyong asks as he inspects Jaehyun’s wounded hand. “It’s not that deep.”

Jaehyun takes a seat beside his hyung, the tips of his ears an angry shade of red. Taeyong pretends not to notice. “I already washed it earlier.”

Taeyong hums, nodding. Quietly, he proceeds to clean Jaehyun’s cut with disinfectant alcohol and povidone-iodine before wrapping it up with the clean bandages he has inside his kit. He knows how Jaehyun is staring at him, how the younger is sitting very closely to him with their knees almost touching, the small space resting in between them almost becoming too unbearable with the heat from their bodies clashing, yet still refusing to mix.

“There,” Taeyong smiles when he finally finishes wrapping up Jaehyun’s wound. “It’s all good now.”

“Thank you, hyung,” Jaehyun does not remove his gaze from him.

Taeyong meets his eyes and feels a blush creep up to his neck and onto his cheeks. “No problem.”

Jaehyun seemed to grow paler under the dim lights inside the room, but the splash of red tainting his cheeks was enough for Taeyong to not notice how much fainter the younger has become.

* * *

**October, 2014**

“Yong-ah!” Johnny calls out for him, chuckling lightly as he carries his laptop over to his friend. The lot of them huddled inside the practice room, all eyes expectant and nervous for the new muic video that had just dropped a few minutes ago. “Have you seen the music video yet?”

Taeyong shakes his head, frowning. “No,” he tells them. The others laughed at his reaction, finding it amusing how he’s refusing to watch his own video rather than being proud of what he had somehow accomplished. “How was it?”

Donghyuck lets out a string of laughter, the pudgy fourteen-year-old boy bouncing on feet in glee. Taeyong does not know what to make of his mood. “Hyung, it was so cool!” he shrieks. “ _Boomin’ system, uh, up! TY Track! TY Track!”_

Taeyong rolls his eyes at him and bites back a groan, throwing his head back in embarrassment while his other friends joined in on the teasing. A chorus of _TY Track_ and _Congratulations, hyung!_ flitted up in the air, paired with joyous laughters and a few hard pats on his back. He received a couple of wide smiles from both Taeil and Hansol, quickly muttering a _Thank you, hyung,_ under his breath all while the others continued on with their small celebration.

“I can’t wait to have a shoot for our own song,” Jeno mused once the chatter has died down. “I know it’s still far away, but I’m really excited for it.”

“Me too!” Jaemin grins and elbows Donghyuck in the ribs. The latter yelps, wincing at the short jab of pain on his side. “I bet we’re all going to debut together! I wanna be in a group with Hansol hyung!”

Mark makes a face at him. “I don’t want to be in a group with Donghyuck.”

“Hey!” Donghyuck scowls at him.

Taeyong sighs, running a hand over his hair. Both Johnny and Yuta stood over him in an attempt to show him the music video for Red Velvet’s Be Natural, but he quietly excused himself in an attempt to escape the attention.

-

“Let’s go?”

Taeyong looks up from his spot, beads of sweat cascading down the sides of his head and onto his neck, pepperinghis heaving chest with nothing but a thin layer of sticky sweat that dampened his black tanktop. He meets Doyoung’s eyes from the practice room’s mirrors, lips parted slightly as he tries to catch his breath.

“What?” he says, panting.

“We’re going back to the dorms,” Doyoung gestures at is bag. “I thought you’d be coming with us?”

“Oh,” Taeyong lifts his tanktop to wipe the sweat off his forehead, a few strands of his hair clinging messily onto his forehead. “I’ll be staying for a few more hours.”

Doyoung nods at him, muttering a quiet _Okay_ under his breath before closing the door behind him. Taeyong turns back to look at himself in the mirror, analyzing his reflection for the hundredth time already ever since he came to the company. How is he still not used to seeing his own reflection? It scares him.

He cannot help but to wonder if he deserves all of their praises. If he really is as good as others claim for him to be. The idea seems too far-fetched. He’s not a saint, and yet they all act like he is one.

He turns to the speakers again and hits the play button on his phone, not minding whatever song is playing for him to dance to. He lets himself get lost in the rhythm and beats, his body moving on its own as he allows himself to get lost to the melody, his muscles aching and screaming, his limbs only growing more and more tired the more the minute passes by. The music is enchanting, the music is intoxicating. He can feel every beat in his veins, every word on his skin. He and the music are one.

When he finally finishes, he spots a familiar boy standing idly by the doorway.

Jaehyun continues to watch his hyung, a small smile resting on his lips, his dark hair pushed back and away from his forehead by a baseball cap. Taeyong turns to him, panting and out of breath.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks, mildly surprised at his presence.

“About halfway through,” Jaehyun starts to walk towards him, one hand tucked carefully behind his back. “I thought I’d be able to find you here since you always take this room as yours. I was right.”

“I thought you went home already? The others already left.”

“I had a few hours to spare,” Jaehyun shrugs. “It’s a Saturday tomorrow, anyway. There’s no school.”

“Hm,” Taeyong hums, nodding. He drops his gaze onto Jaehyun’s hand. “Why are you here, then?”

“I wanted to congratulate you for Be Natural, hyung. You did great!”

Taeyong sighs. _Did I?_

“Thank you, Jaehyun-ah.”

Jaehyun pulls out his arm from behind and holds out the flowers he’s been trying to hide. Taeyong lowers his eyes onto the small and frail looking plant in front of him. Baby’s breath.

“These are for you, hyung,” Jaehyun smiles. Gentle and quiet. “I hope you now that you did really well.”

Carefully, Taeyong takes the plant in his hands. He stares at the white flowers swaying gently against their stems, feeling his eyes prickle with fresh tears at the compliment. Perhaps, hearing those words from Jaehyun has their own different meanings.

“Thank you,” he tells the younger, clearing his throat. “I really appreciate it, Jaehyun.”

“I know, hyung.”

-

Jaehyun’s velvet like voice filtered through the room, his voice reverberating against the four walls as he continues to practice his singing. Taeyong sits by the corner, his legs sprawled lazily in front of him while he listens to the younger sing a song he’s never heard of before. He spares a glance at the digital wall clock from across him, reading _1:48 AM_ in bright red.

Jaehyun stops midway, groaning. Taeyong snaps his head to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “What is it?”

“I can’t get the tone right,” Jaehyun runs a hand over his face, the whole expanse of his palm going over it once, twice. “Not when Taeil hyung’s not around to harmonize with me.”

Taeyong lifts himself up from the floor, shivering lightly from the cold as he makes his way towards Jaehyun who is sitting on a stool in the middle of the room. He takes a look at the paper he’s holding, quietly reading the big and bold letters printed at the header.

“Is this a new song?” he asks out loud. “It’s called Timeless?”

Jaehyun nods once. “They want Taeil hyung, Doyoung hyung, and me to record it for next year’s scheduled shows.”

“May I see the lyrics?” Taeyong reaches out for the paper. Jaehyun hands it over to him carefully, their fingertips brushing lightly over each other. Taeyong ignores the ringing in his ears and proceeds to read the lyrics.

 _“This is probably a dream,”_ he starts. _“Just like my memories, you’re right in front of me.”_

Jaehyun lets out a quiet sigh and slowly leans against his hyung’s side. _“It’s strange even after a long time, my heart keeps repeating that day,”_ he continues, meeting Taeyong’s burning gaze in the mirror. _“When I close my eyes, my memories take me to that place again.”_

Taeyong smiles, flushed with red all over. “Sing for me.”

Jaehyun shifts on his seat, leaning closer to his hyung. When he starts to sing again, Taeyong gently threads his fingers through the younger’s hair.

“ _I should definitely tell you today, but I can’t make a sound. I try to hold out my hand to touch you, but I can’t.”_

Taeyong bites his lower lip.

_“I endlessly practiced these words. I still love you. But in the end, I couldn’t say it. I shouldn’t let you go.”_

Jaehyun tears his gaze away from the mirror and turns to look up at Taeyong. “Hyung,” he calls, voice a mix of longing and regret. Taeyong wonders why. “Can I kiss you?”

Taeyong stares at him, his lips parting slightly from shock. “W-what?”

“Can I kiss you?” Jaehyun repeats. “Please?”

Taeyong blinks down at him, his fingers against Jaehyun’s hair now frozen in place. Jaehyun continues to stare at him, waiting. Taeyong leans in wordlessly, clumsily letting his chapped lips cover Jaehyun’s mouth amidst the ringing in his ears and the throbbing in his chest. Jaehyun feels warm and welcoming against him, their lips molding perfectly against each other.

Jaehyun pulls away abruptly after a few seconds, muttering a soft _Shit_ under his breath all while he staggers away from the stool he’s sitting on. Taeyong’s stares at him with wide eyes, lips a bit swollen and red.

“What’s wrong?”

Jaehyun slaps a hand over his mouth, the tips of his ears an angry shade of red. “Uhm, sorry…” he trails off, voice muffled behind his palm.

“Jaehyun—“

Jaehyun drops his hand from his mouth and watches as blood starts to trickle down the side of his forefinger. He looks back up to meet his hyung’s gaze, nose heavily bleeding.

“Oh, my god!” Taeyong exclaims. “Jae, your nose is bleeding!”

“Yeah…” Jaehyun says rather dumbly. “It’s… It is bleeding, yeah.”

Cursing, Taeyong sprints outside the room, calling out for their manager and a box of wet wipes, while Jaehyun only continues to stare at the blood dripping onto his palm, the feeling of Taeyong’s lips still lingering against his mouth.

-

Taeyong wakes up at the crack of dawn, his hair still a mess on top of his head. The dorm is quiet and cold, and the floor underneath his feet sent tremors through his limbs that made him shiver, teeth chattering against each other quietly as he makes his way into their small kitchen. Sighing, he presses the light switch on and pulls out a mug from one of the cabinets, his fingers numb from the cold.

“Oh! Yong-ah, you’re awake.”

Taeyong turns to see their manager in his thermal coat, cheeks heavily tainted with red. Taeyong bows to him, muttering a soft greeting under his breath.

“Is Jaehyun awake?”

Taeyong shrugs, yawning. He turns back to his mug, eyes still bleary from sleep, but the image of Jaehyun is as clear as day in his mind. Jaehyun. He kissed him last night. Jaehyun.

They kissed. Last night.

“We’ll be gone for day,” his manager tells him.

Taeyong grabs their electric kettle and starts to fill it with water. “Where are you going, hyung?”

“Just the hospital. You know, for the usual check-up and such.”

Taeyong turns back to him, an eyebrow raised as he remembers the small commotion from the previous day. Jaehyun’s nose bled pretty heavily so suddenly. “It’s nothing too serious, right?”

His manager shakes his head carefully. “No, not really. You don’t have to worry, Yong-ah.”

He smiles at the younger, but the reluctance in his movement gave Taeyong a sense of doubt from within him. He stares at their manager for a few seconds, eyes calculating and curious. He feels it in him, something that is being kept away not only from him but also from everybody else. It unsettles him.

“Morning, hyung.”

Both turned at the familiar voice. Jaehyun emerges from the dim hallway, his dark hair still sticking all over the place as he lets out a loud yawn. Taeyong turns his attention back to their electric kettle, quietly watching as bubbles start to slowly emerge from the heat. He grips the edge of the counter, knuckles almost turning white.

“Good morning, Taeyong hyung.”

Taeyong bites down on his lower lip. “Morning,” he greets back.

“We’ll be going now, Taeyong-ah. Lock the doors before you all leave.”

Taeyong nods, and he waits. He listens carefully to the shuffling of feet, to the quiet sigh that followed before he hears the door click shut from the small living room. He doesn’t see Jaehyun’s burning gaze the whole time. He doesn’t see the way his arms were paler than usual, how his eyes sported deeper bags underneath. He doesn’t see his chapped lips and the way his cheeks appear to be more sunken, more lifeless. How his skin have slowly, slowly been filled with purples and reds.

He doesn’t see them at first. He doesn’t notice.

He can only wish he did.

* * *

**November, 2014**

Snow has finally hit the ground, and Taeyong watches, enamored, as thin layers of ice touch the soles of their foot. He digs the tip of his shoe into the small pile of ice covering the company’s entrance and lets his foot sit there.

“Where’s manager hyung?” Johnny asks him, still shivering from the cold. He lowers his head when a small group of teenagers turn their heads to look at them standing in front of SM’s building.

“He said he’s on his way,” Taeyong mutters quietly, still watching the thing layer of ice melt against the material of his rubber shoe. He pulls his thermal coat closer to his body. “He had to go pick-up someone from an appointment, I think.”

“He’s been quite pre-occupied these past few days, don’t you think?” Johnny turns to him, noticing how he’s quiety playing with the snow. He presses a foot against the small pile as well. “He’s keeping a closer eye on Jaehyun, too.”

“Mhm,” Taeyong nods and shakes off the snow on his shoes. He turns back to look at the almost empty street, eyes following the taxis that pass by every minute or so. “They went to the hospital last week to have him checked.”

“Hospital? Why?”

Taeyong shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “But he had a nosebleed before that. I guess they only wanted to be sure.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

A familiar black sedan pulls up in front of them with one of its windows down. Taeyong immediately recognizes Jaehyun from the passenger’s seat, waving at them merrily. Taeyong’s breath hitches at the back of his throat. Johnny walks past him and pulls open the door to the backseat, and he follows suit, quickly climbing behind him.

Jaehyun turns to them, holding out a pack of gummy bears. Their manager spares a quick glance from the rearview mirror before driving away from the building. Johnny takes three from the packet and immediately throws them in his mouth. Taeyong takes one, his eyes lowering onto the yellow bracelet peeking through Jaehyun’s long sleeve.

A hospital band.

“Oh,” Taeyong squeaks. “You guys went to the hospital again?”

Jaehyun pulls his pack of gummy bears away and turns back to his seat. Taeyong catches their manager’s eyes from the rearview mirror and raises an eyebrow.

Johnny shifts on his seat, adjusting the seatbelt resting over his torso. “Is everything alright? You guys have been visiting the hospital more frequently lately.”

“Everything is good!” Jaehyun chirps. “It’s nothing too serious.”

Taeyong lowers his gaze onto his lap and stares at his hands.

-

Pale is what Taeyong thinks of when he arrives home to their quiet dorm and immediately spots Jaehyun sitting by their dining table under the bright fluroscent light. The seventeen-year-old does not notice his presence – perhaps, he did notice him coming in, with the way the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he chooses not to speak and ackowledge him. Instead, he lets his eyes wander in front, the thin skin underneath his lower lashes now a sickly shade of blue.

“You’re still up?” Taeyong announces his arrival by pulling the chair from across Jaehyun. “You left practice early.”

Jaehyun’s eyes flicker over to him, slightly unfocused. Taeyong lowers his gaze onto the younger’s arm and winces slightly at how blinding his skin is starting to become. A few bruises covered the expanse of his skin. Pale. So, so pale.

“Jae?” he calls to him again, worry etched in his voice. Jaehyun only smiles at him, the tips of his dark hair falling over his eyes and gently touching his lashes. “Is everything alright?”

“Mhm,” Jaehyun nods, albeit unconvincingly. Taeyong furrows his eyebrows at him and desperately tries to ignore the way the younger’s cheeks seem to be more sunken than before. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You...”

“What about me?”

Jaehyun sighs, the tips of his ears tainted with the faintest hint of pink. “I don’t think I’ll be able to give you more flowers anytime soon, hyung.”

“Why?” Taeyong breathes.

“Hyung...” Jaehyun calls out to him again.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sick.”

Taeyong blinks once, twice. Way too many times for him to count in his head. Jaehyun contiues to stare at him, waiting and wondering, of how his hyung will react now that he has told him the truth. The truth behind his short absences, of why he has started to wear clothes with longer sleeves now to hide his skin, of how he had been taking more breaks tha usual during dance practices, of how their teachers and managers seem to be more careful whenever he’s around. Taeyong barely even noticed the slight changes to him, and more pre-occupied with his confusing feelings for the younger that he had failed to notice his own sufferings.

“Sick,” Taeyong repeats, fingers twitching. “What do you mean by sick?”

“I...” Jaehyun trails off. “I might need to stay somewhere else for the time being. You guys might not see me for a while.”

“What?” Taeyong starts to sputter “Jaehyun, what? What do you mean by somewhere else? Where are you going? What the fuck?”

“Hyung...” Jaehyun flashes him a gentle smile, one that seems so familiar it almost caught him off guard. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You can always visit me in the hospital.”

“I don’t understand,” Taeyong starts to shake his head.

“Neither do I, hyung,” Jaehyun sighs. “Neither do I.”

-

Taeyong stares at the clock hanging on top of the wall. It’s been three days.

Almost all of the trainees gathered inside the company’s biggest meeting room, their faces all confused and tired alike as they settled on the cold tiled floor. There is nothing but silence inside the room. Taeyong balls his hand into a fist against his lap.

“We apologize for disturbing your training,” one of the directors stood in front of the podium, looking anxious as multiple pairs of eyes darted to him, Taeyong included. “But we are here today to announce a few changes regarding the future plans of the company. This concerns not only the SMRookies and those who are confirmed for the line-up for 2016, but also those who are still new to the company.”

Jaemin tugs at the hem of Taeyong’s t-shirt from behind. “Hyung, what are they saying?”

“I don’t know.” Taeyong whispers to him.

“The SMRookies Girls project will push through next year as usual, starting from the partnership with Disney, but the line-up for SMRookies Boys 2015 will experience a few major changes in regards to one of our trainee’s current condition.”

Taeyong stops breathing for a moment.

“Jung Jaehyun will withdraw from all of the activities until further notice. Whatever you may hear within the company shall stay here and here only.”

Murmurs broke out from the small crowdTaeyong lowers his head and turns to see his friends talking in hushed voice.

“Why is he withdrawing, hyung?” Mark asks Johnny. “I thought he’s only resting for the meantime?”

“That’s what I heard, too...” Taeil sighs, running a hand through his hair. He meets Taeyong’s burning gaze and raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you know anything about this, Yong?”

Slowly, Taeyong shakes his head. “No...”

_I’m sick._

“Does this mean he won’t be able to participate in the SMRookies Show?” Ten turns to Hansol. “What about our on-going projects? Bassbot?”

Hansol shrugs. “I’m not sure...”

“Hyung,” Jisung leans towards Taeyong, confused. “Does this mean we’re not going to debut?”

“Don’t say that, Jisung-ah!” Jeno whines, leaning his shoulder against Jaemin’s side.

Taeyong turns back his attention in front, the sounds of his friends’ voices getting drowned in an abyss at the back of his head. There is a familiar ringing in his ears that somehow reminds him of Jaehyun’s his shrill voice that hasn’t fully developed yet. _Hello, hyung. Have you eaten yet, hyung? Did you see the flowers I left for you, hyung? Good night, hyung._

_Hyung, I’m sick._

Cruel, Taeyong thinks. The world is cruel. It is harsh to those who dream.

-

Taeyong hates hospitals.

He hates the way the walls are stark white, spotless in every corner and void of any imperfections. He hates the smell and how it lingers under his nose, how it clings onto him and reminds him of nothing but the sufferings of those behind closed doors. He hates how some people even have the nerve to smile and laugh and talk normally to one another as if nothing is wrong. It makes him sick, makes him want to hurl. How can people bear to live in a place like this?

“You okay?” his manager asked him once the two of them got out of the elevator. The hallways are almost empty now, but the same stark white walls remained along his line of vision.

“Mhm,” Taeyong shifts on his feet, one hand gripping the strap of his body bag. “It feels weird.”

‘You’re the first one to visit him, you know? Out of all the trainees, I mean.”

The two of them start to walk along the quiet hallways. Taeyong greets some of the nurses staying within their station with a small bow and lets his manager lead the way. They went past doors after doors, the heels of their shoes thudding lightly behind them. Taeyong halts in his steps when his manager stops in front of a tall and brown wooden door.

_308, Dr. Nam._

Taeyong waits patiently behind as his manager knocks on the door twice. Hurried shuffling of feet can be heard from inside, and he hears the muffled voice of someone familiar, just enough to somehow calm hiss already frayed nerves.

A woman presumably in her early 40s greets them with a timid smile, the lines under her eyes an evidence of her discomfort. Her kind eyes reminded Taeyong of someone he knows.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jung. I hope we’re not being a bother?”

She shakes her head carefully. “Not at all,” she says, her voice surprisingly a bit deeper than what Taeyong had expected from Jaehyun’s mother. She opens the door wider for the two of them and steps aside to let them inside the room.

Taeyong has never hated hospitals more than he already does as he proceeds to take a look around the lifeless room that is now Jaehyun’s home for the meantime. How can someone live in such a heartless place? How can once survive under these circumstances? The walls are white and bland, and there is a beige and overworn couch near the hospital bed that looks wrongfully placed. There is a small window near the edge of the room, big enough for Jaehyun to lay on his bed and still be able to see the view outside, but he seems to be refusing to face that side unless the curtains are drawn. The whole room is quiet and smells heavily of alcohol and other disinfectants, and Taeyong is starting to hate it more and more with each second that passes by.

This isn’t living.

“Hyung!”

Jaehyun is sitting on the hospital bed when Taeyong finally had the chance to take a good look at him. His skin is impossibly pale, even paler than the last time he saw him. There are bruises covering the sides of his neck and the expanse of his forearms, and Taeyong knows there are more underneath the sleeves of his hospital gown. His cheeks – his lovely, round, rosy cheeks – now stood gaunt and lifeless, and they framed his face in a way where it impossibly hurt for Taeyong to look at them without wincing.

“Hey,” Taeyong slowly approaches his bed, his steps careful and quiet. The insides of his mouth tasted like metal. “How have you been?”

“I’m doing great, hyung!” Jaehyun exclaims, the corners of his lips barely lifting for a smile. A lie, Taeyog thinks. “I really missed you!”

Taeyong nods at him. “I missed you, too...”

Quietly, he sits on the vacant chair resting beside the hospital bed. Both their manager and Jaehyun’s mother excused themselves from the room, and Taeyong watches them until the door shuts carefully behind them.

“I was waiting for you to visit me, hyung,” Jaehyun tells him, smiling this time. Like nothing is wrong. “I’m glad you stopped by to see me today.”

“Sorry about that,” Taeyong says, scratching the back of his head. He tries too ignore the way Jaehyun’s chest rises in fall with evident strain. “We, uhm, got busy with training.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun nods. “Of course. How are the others? I heard from manager hyung that Doyoung hyung’s going to be introduced next year?”

“On January, yeah. He’s going to be an MC for Show Champion.”

“That’s nice...”

Taeyong starts to play with his finger, both hands resting on top of his lap. He can feel Jaehyun’s stare burning a hole right through his head, but can’t get himself to meet the younger’s eyes in fear of seeing a person he now barely knows. Looking at Jaehyun – seeing his pale skin tainted with nasty hues of blues and purples – hurts more than it should.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun calls to him. “I might look different the next time you visit me.”

Taeyong turns to him. He stares at his forehead instead. “Why?”

“My chemotherapy sessions are about to start, and the doctors told me I’ll lose my hair.”

Taeyong clenches his fists unconsciously. “Okay,” he breathes out. “That’s fine.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

“Because I might not look like me anymore.”

“But you’re still Jaehyun, right?” Taeyong meets his eyes for the first time in more than a week. “You’re still going to be the same.”

Jaehyun lowers his head. “I hope so...”

Taeyong does not sleep that night, his mind being haunted by the image of Jaehyun’s pale face, of his bruised skin and gaunt cheeks, the purple bags hanging under his eyes now a permanent resident on his face. He cannot fall asleep; not when he knows Jaehyun is probably lying awake right now, restless like an owl, with every corner of his body aching. The needles connected to his body, the ones that are currently under his thin skin, are all monsters. Heartless, heartless monsters.

Sighing, he reaches over to his nightstand, careful as to not make too much movements to avoid jostling the bed. Johnny is already fast asleep from the top bunk.

The brightness from his phone screen is blinding, but the discomfort of his eyes being strained in the late night does not hinder him from doing a quick research on a disease he has never really paid much attention to before. With slow fingers, he types in _leukemia_ onto the search bar.

_Leukemia is a blood cancer..._

Taeyong bites his lower lip and immediately presses on the first link he sees on screen. Cancer. _Fucking cancer._

He knows it’s cancer. He already knows it’s fucking cancer. They were already told about it. They were already notified about Jaehyun’s condition and his current state with the disease, they were already made aware. But why does it still fucking feel like it’s his first time knowing about it?

“Taeyong,” a familiar voice calls out to him. Johnny. “Go to sleep.”

Taeyong shifts under the covers. “How did you know I was awake?”

“I just do.”

Taeyong sighs and puts his phone down. Johnny starts to shift from the top bunk, the top of his blanket peeking out from the corner of his bed frame.

“Hey, John?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think he’ll be alright?”

Johnny blinks a few times, staring into darkness and nothing more. “I hope so,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Me, too,” Taeyong bites his lower lips and shifts under his blanket.

Sleep still does not come to him.

-

Jaemin slams his card onto the floor. “Uno!” he shrieks, laughing straight at Renjun’s face as the latter stare at his own pile of cards.

“This isn’t fun,” he mutters under his breath. Donghyuck tries to slyly take a peek at his cards, snickering.

Taeyong enters the practice room with a frown. “Why arent you practicing?”

“We’re on a break,” Jeno tells him, gently laying a green reverse card onto the pile. Jaemin finally lays his last card on top before plopping himself down the cold floor. Mark does not spare him a glance. “Our teacher just left a few minutes ago.”

“Have you had your lunch yet?” Taeyong walks over to one of the vacant couches near the speakers, looking for his missing baseball cap. He remembers leaving it somewhere inside this room.

“Yeah, we already ate, hyung,” Mark lowers his cards and turns to him. “What about you?”

“We’re going to pick up food on our way to the hospital.”

Silence gently falls over their small circle. Taeyong turns back to look at them, an eyebrow raised.

“How...” Jaemin slowly sits up, his hair a mess against his forehead. “How is Jaehyun hyung?”

“He’s fine, don’t worry.” Taeyong tries to smile at them. Mark catches his eyes and stares at him for a few seconds, his doe like eyes round and wide and dark. For the past week, it had been difficult for the adults to hide certain information from the younger ones.

_How is Jaehyun hyung? Can we visit him now? When will he be back?_

So many questions left unanswered, and it makes Taeyong sick to the stomach. He absolutely hates it when he has to lie to their faces, but the severity of the situation, as they were told previously, would be too sensitive for the kids. They cannot know too much about it. And so, it’s always _Jaehyun is doing good_ rather than _Jaehyun is getting weaker, getting thinner._ It’s always _Jaehyun says he can’t wait to see all of you_ instead of _Jaehyun doesn’t want you to visit because his hair is starting to fall out from chemotherapy. Taeil hyung cried outside the room after we saw him pull out a chunk of his hair away from his head. Johnny couldn’t even smile, and even Yuta was frustrated that he couldn’t do anything about it. Only Hansol hyung and I were the only ones who could bear to see him like that. Both Ten and Doyoung refuses to visit him in fear of not being able to handle it. We don’t know when he’ll be able to come back, we don’t know if he could even come back, if he’ll still be fine after this. If we’ll still get to see all of us on stage for the next year. We do not know._

Taeyong is now restless during the night. Almost all of them are. They drown themselves under piles and piles of practices and weekly evaluations that seem like a breeze now compared to a few years before. There is a void to be filled, a gap that is left right in between their bond. Where do they go from here on?

**Jaehyunnie [01:22AM]**

hyung are u awake

Taeyong sighs against his pillow, the dim light coming from his phone screen still a bit too blinding, and starts to type.

**Me [01:23AM]**

yes. why are u still awake?

**Jaehyunnie [01:25AM]**

bored haha

**Jaehyunnie [01:25AM]**

why are u still awake hyung

**Me [01:26AM]**

can’t sleep

**Jaehyunnie [1:26AM]**

why??

**Me [1:27AM]**

nothing much haha i’m going to try and sleep now tho. good night J

**Jaehyunnie [1:27AM]**

.

**Jaehyunne [1:27AM]**

good night hyung. I miss u. sleep well <3

Taeyong sighs. “I miss you, too.”

-

Taeyong brings tulips when he visits Jaehyun again. He was alone this time around, without his manager or any of his members. The harshness of winter’s breeze against his skin is petrifying.

“Aren’t tulips expensive, hyung?” Jaehyun asks as he watches Taeyong carefully arrange the flowers into a small vase. The petals are bright and endearing; all very pleasing to the eyes.

“Don’t worry, I saved enough for them,” Taeyong turns to Jaehyun and smiles at him, ignoring the gray beanie resting atop of his head to cover his bald spots. He still refuses to shave all of his hair. “Do you like them?”

“Mhm,” Jaehyun nods. “They look really pretty. I was supposed to give you one before but I didn’t get the chance to do it since…”

Taeyong watches him lower his gaze onto his lap, the sharp corners of his gaunt face now more prominent than when he previously visited. He’s been losing so much weight than what was anticipated, with his health declining rapidly despite his chemotherapy sessions and the medicines he has been taking for the past month. _We can only do so much now,_ Taeyong had once heard the doctor say. _At stage, we can only hope his sessions do just enough for his body to fight back._

He clenches his jaw at the thought and tears his gaze away from Jaehyun. Snow slowly falls from outside. Jaehyun carefully turns his head to look outside the window, sighing when he sees nothing but an abundance of white filtering his vision. It’s all very different to the stark white walls he has grown accustomed to inside the hospital. “I wish I can go out,” he mutters quietly. “I miss going outside.”

Taeyong stares at the tulips. “Are they keeping you here?”

“Yeah…” Jaehyun watches as a small snowflake lands against the window pane. “They told me I’m not allowed to strain myself too much. Especially since I can barely walk now.”

Taeyong pauses at that, and he just stares at the flowers he brought with him as a gift. He digs the heel of his palm against the small coffee table he’s standing over, his fingertips pushing heavily against the wood underneath. He can’t walk now.

“That’s why I get so bored here,” Jaehyun says, slowly starting to cough. Taeyong grabs a water bittle from underneath the table and starts to uncap it.

“Here,” he says and carefully guides Jaehyun to drink the water. “Slowly, Jaehyun-ah. Be careful.”

Jaehyun takes a few small sips of the water, wincing. Taeyong pulls away from him when he starts to cough uncontrollably, his chest heaving. Jaehyun covers his mouth with his hand and tries to stop himself from coughing too much. “Sorry,” he wheezes. “it’s kind of heard to b-breathe.”

Taeyong eyes widened when he sees blood pooling inside of Jaehyun’s mouth and immediately grabs the pager. Jaehyun continues to cough, staining his palm with nothing but red all over. His teethand gums are red, the edges of his lips are red, his tongue, his palms, his fingers, the insides of his mouth. Red. Bleeding.

_“Hello?”_

“H-his mouth is bleeding!” Taeyong stammers. “He’s coughing and his mouth is bleeding!”

Taeyong turns back to look at Jaehyun and sees the blood staining his hand. When the doctor and nurses finally arrived, he was then sent outside of the room to wait until everything is back to normal again. Jaehyun’s parents came rushing in a few minutes later with his manager in tow. They were all sweating despite the cold.

“What happened?” Jaehyun’s mother asks, her hair a mess.

“His mouth was bleeding…” Taeyong trails off in a daze. He cannot seem to remove the image of blood in his mind. Jaehyun’s blood.

“Yong,” his manager calls out to him. “Let’s go. I’m taking you back to your dorm.”

Taeyong turns to him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “But Jaehyun…”

“He’ll be fine, Yong. I’m taking you back now.”

The car trip is short and quiet, but the drumming in his ears is almost deafening. He wants to know if Jaehyun is doing alright, if his condition is stable now. He wants to stay by his side, but what can he do other than watch? It pains him.

“I want to go to the company,” he tells his manager quietly. “I want to practice.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods at him and turns to look outside the tinted window. Snow falls onto the ground shamelessly and with no care. It reminds him of that one superstition about seeing the first snow.

“Taeyong, I need to tell you something.”

Taeyong turns to his manager, frowning, as they pulled up in front of the company. “What is it, hyung?”

His manager sighs and removes his pair of glasses. “I think it’s better if you stop visiting the hospital. It’s not good for you.”

“What?” Taeyong’s eyes widens in shock. “I— I can’t do that, hyung!”

“Yong, you have to understand that you’re not the only one being affected here. Jaehyun’s condition is slowly getting worse, and if you continue to still be present while he struggles to cope, you’re bound to get damaged as well!”

“But he’s—“

“Did you see what happened earlier? Do you understand? Do you even recognize Jaehyun now? Or are you still in denial?” his manager rests his elbows against the steering wheel and runs both of his hands against his face, evidently frustrated. “Taeyong, he’s dying.”

“D-don’t say that…” Taeyong’s voice starts to shake.

“We can’t do anything about it anymore, Taeyong. You can’t keep hoping for nothing. All of you needs to accept the fact that he might be gone soon.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Taeyong whispers, the corners of his eyes brimming with tears. “You don’t care about him.”

His manager laughs at him, as though mocking. “I fucking wish I didn’t care, Yong. Every single day, I keep on wishing I didn’t care instead.”

Taeyong shakes his head, biting his lower lip. “We don’t want to lose him, hyung. I’d rather suffer with him than leave him alone.”

“You’re only going to hurt yourself—“

“Then I’d rather get hurt, hyung! Jaehyun’s our friend! He’s my friend!”

Taeyong pushes the door open and steps outside the car with a grunt, ignoring the sting of the harsh winter breeze against his tear stained cheeks. He pulls out his company card from his back pocket and rushes inside the lobby, snow trailing behind his every footstep. No one dares to speak to him when he arrives inside one of the practice rooms, his tears ignored by curious eyes. At one point, Doyoung wordlessly hands him a tissue.

“Thanks,” he mutters as he slumps against the wall, voice hoarse from crying. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, hyung.”

* * *

**December, 2014**

Johnny sighs through his nose and slams his laptop shut. “They’re relentless,” he says. “All of them.”

“Stop look at the comments,” Taeyong shakes his head at him. “It’s not worth it. Let the company handle it.”

“They’re talking shit about you, and it’s not even true!”

Taeyong doesn’t answer to that. Instead, he just sighs and rests his head against the couch sitting behind him, sweat trickling down the side of his head and onto the leather material of the said furniture. He knows about the issue surrounding his name, and he’s aware of how other people are perceiving him as the bad guy right now, but he’s already come to terms with how he is to handle the issue after much deliberation the previous night when the news first broke out. It’s not worth his energy.

“They should be ashamed.” Johnny mutters under his breath.

Taeyong hums, staring at the ceiling. He fishes out his cellphone when he feels it vibrating from the pocket of his hoodie. _Jaehyunnie_ , the caller ID reads. He signals for Johnny to keep quiet as he accepts the call.

“Hello?”

 _“Hyung…”_ Jaehyun’s voice is quiet and heavy from the other line.

“Jaehyun-ah, what’s wrong?”

_“Are you alright, hyung? I… I saw the articles.”_

Taeyong leaves his spot from the floor, biting his lower lip. He approaches the door and slowly pulls it open. “Ah,” he breathes out, letting the door click shut behind him. “I’m fine, Jaehyun-ah.”

 _“You—“_ a cough. _“You shouldn’t believe what… What they’re saying about y-you, hyung.”_

Another fit of coughing followed through. Taeyong runs a hand through his dark hair, exasperated as he continues to listen to Jaehyun struggle to breathe from the other line. He can faintly hear the familiar sound of his heart moniter beeping quietly in the background, a stable _beep, beep, beep_ resonating through the phone.

“ _They’re— all of them a-are lies.”_

Taeyong leans his back against the wall. “You should be resting…”

 _“I am,”_ Jaehyun tells him, breathless. _“I-I’m watching the snow… From my bed…”_

“Mm, that’s nice,” a small smile spreads across Taeyong’s lips. “Is it cold in your room?”

 _“N-no…”_ Jaehyun grunts from the other line. _“I— I wish you… were here, though.”_

Taeyong lowers his head and starts to dig the heel of his shoe against the tiled floor. “Yeah?”

 _“I m-miss you, hyung,”_ Jaehyun rasps. _“When are you… When are you going t-to visit… again?”_

“Soon. I’ll be going with Johnny and Doyoung.”

_“W-what about the others? M-mark?”_

“Ah,” Taeyong closes his eyes tightly. “I-I’m not so sure…”

_“Please tell them I m-miss them, h-hyung.”_

“I will.”

 _“O-okay…”_ a pause. _“I need— need to go now. I’ll see y-you soon, hyung.”_

“I’ll see you soon…”

Taeyong starts to bite the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to hold himself back as he listens to Jaehyun’s quiet sighs from the other line before hanging up. He remains standing in the hallway, his back pressed against the cold wall. Silence loomed over his head like a thick blanket, his shoulders tensed and tight and aching, aching, aching. It hurts to move, it pains him to even move a muscle. He wants to see Jaehyun, to touch him and tell him that everything will be alright. He wants to talk to him, to try and tell him everything that have been bugging him for months now, because he knows they barely have any time left.

_Taeyong, he’s dying._

Cruel. The world is cruel.

-

Taeyong carefully plucks out a daisy from the vase, his fingertips lightly pinching the thin stem of the small flower in front of him. Johnny continues to hold a conversation with Jaehyun, his hands clasping Jaehyun’s bony one, the contrast to their skin starkly defined with the paleness of Jaehyun’s complexion. Blue and purple veins ran along the back of his palm and onto his forearm.

“We’re already starting to prepare for the shows,” Johnny tells him with a smile. “We’re still practicing for Bassbot, but you know, it’s better if we do everything early, right?”

Jaehyun nods. “Yeah…”

Silently, Taeyong turns to look at Doyoung who is standing by the window, his back obstructing Jaehyun’s view of outside. The obnoxious beeping coming from Jaehyun’s heart monitor is almost silent but deafening.

“Doyoung hyung,” Jaehyun calls for him. Taeyong notices him flinch from the younger’s voice. “You’re… going to be introduced n-next month?”

Doyoung turns to him slowly, his gaze lowered onto the floor. “Mm,” he hums. “Next month, yeah.”

“Are you—“ Jaehyun starts to cough. “A-are you nervous?”

Doyoung shrugs nonchalantly, eyes still glued onto the tiled floor. Taeyong sighs and directs his gaze back onto the flower he is holding. Johnny continues to gently caress his thumb against the back of Jaehyun’s palm, his skin warm against Jaehyun’s fingertips.

“Congratulations, h-hyung,” he tells Doyoung with a smile.

For the first time, Doyoung finally meets his eyes. “For what?”

“For being a R-rookie…”

“I’m not a Rookie yet, though?” Doyoung furrows his eyebrows. “Why are you already congratulating me?”

“Because…” Jaehyun bites down on his lower lip. The bruises running along his jaw and onto his neck now seemed to be more vibrant against his pale skin. “I might not be a-around to tell you t-that next… next month.”

“Jaehyun.” Taeyong sighs, shaking his head.

Doyoung scowls at Jaehyun, his eyes red at the corners. “I’m leaving,” he tells them. “I can’t do this.”

Johnny starts to protest. “Doyoung—“

“Hyung…” Jaehyun calls out for him again. Doyoung stops right in front of the door, his chest heaving. “Let’s… let’s sing together a-again next time…”

Doyoung shuts his eyes and yanks the door open. Taeyong lowers his head and stares at the limp daisy hanging on top of his palm. _Cruel_ , he thinks again.

The rest of his week passes by in a rush, with most of his time being spent either practicing or sleeping when he can, though the latter is still very much difficult to come by even at the latest hours. Late nights inside the practice room is more frequent now than before. The familiar space now feels emptier, quieter and more reserved than how it used to be. The dead weight on his shoulders only seems to be growing heavier and heavier as more snow touches the ground.

Taeil pushes a bottle of soju towards him, a gentle smile playing right across his lips. The light from their dorm’s small dining area is almost blinding, their skin growing paler under it, and it painfully reminds him of Jaehyun.

“Care for a drink, Yong-ah?” Taeil hands over an empty glass. Taeyong grabs the bottle of soju and pours himself a drink.

Hansol pops open another bottle and slides it over to Taeil who is sitting right across him. Taeyong watches his hyungs carefully, deep in his own thoughts.

“Yuta, Ten, and I visited Jaehyun this morning,” Hansol tells them, taking a sip from his drink. He winces from the slight burn slicing down his throat, the bitter aftertaste lingering longer on his tongue. “We didn’t stay long, though.”

“How was it?” Taeil asks.

“It went fine,” Hansol shrugs. “We didn’t get to talk too much since he fell asleep. His father told us he’s been taking painkillers for his joints. He can barely move and walk now since his therapies are weakening his body more and more.”

Taeyong sighs and takes a huge gulp from his drink, his cheeks already red. “Do you…” he trails off, swallowing thickly. “Do you think he still has a chance?”

Taeil starts to fiddle with his glass. “I don’t know.”

“Do you?” Hansol turns to meet Taeyong’s gaze. The three of them sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the question hang in the air and loom over their heads. Taeyong doesn’t know what to answer to that.

Sighing, Hansol takes another sip from his drink, the tip of his nose tainted with a hint of red. He lifts his gaze onto the ceiling and swallows thickly, the corners of his eyes brimming with unshed tears. Taeyong lowers his gaze onto the bottle of alcohol in front of him, the inside of his throat burning. Taeil leans back onto his chair, his fingertips staining the sides of his glass. The night seems to have grown quieter.

“I can’t even fucking look at him anymore,” Hansol breathes out, his voice shaking. Taeyong turns to him and sees a tear escape his eye, not any more surprised to see him cry but more from the fact that he’s the second one to break out of all the older members. “It hurts just thinking about not having him around. What about next year? What about when we debut? Who is going to fill in the gap?”

A chuckle escapes past Taeil’s lips. “Fuck,” he mutters, his cheeks now damped with fresh tears as well. “I didn’t think it would actually come to this.”

Taeyong lowers his head and stares at his red fingertips. “I don’t want to lose him,” he whispers, voice shaking at the sudden realization. He hates it. “I don’t think I can bear to lose him.”

Hansol starts to sob. “It’s so unfair!” he slams a hand against the wooden table and covers his face with both of his hands. “It’s so, so unfair. He’s supposed to be with us right now, and not stuck inside a fucking hospital room! It’s not fair!”

Taeil nods, biting his lower lip. “I didn’t know it’d be this hard,” he says through tears. “Manager hyung already talked to us, right? They already told us to expect the worst, but why does it still hurt?”

“Because we care?” Taeyong meets their eyes. “Because… Because we love him too much. We care for him too much.”

“Would it be bad if I say I wish I didn’t know instead?” Hansol continues. “Maybe then, it’d be less painful than seeing him in that state. Lifeless and struggling.”

Taeil shakes his head. “No,” he tells him. “I understand. I get where you’re coming from.”

Hansol sniffs and takes another sip from his drink. “Imagine…” he trails off. “Imagine seeing your friend on his deathbed. Imagine going through that. _Fuck._ ”

“No one wants that,” Taeyong shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone wants that.”

“And he still acts like nothing is wrong! He still smiles and laughs like he’s not… he’s not _dying_.”

Hansol proceeds to wipe the fresh tears away from his face. Taeil lifts the hem of his hoodie to gently dab on his tear stained eyes. “He’s always been like that,” he says, chuckling humorlessly. “Always the one to pretend like everything is alright.”

A fond smile splits Taeyong’s face in half, memories of Jaehyun from the previous years flashing in his mind like a slideshow. _Hyung, have you eaten yet? Hyung, you should rest first. I’ll bring you food, hyung. Make sure to drink water, hyung. Don’t forget to eat. Hyung, I’ll always be here for you. Hyung…_

“I don’t think I’ll be able to recover if we lose him,” he whispers, staring blankly at the wall in front. “I just… I can’t.”

Taeil sighs. Hansol puts his head on both of his hands. The bitter aftertaste of the alcohol still lingers inside his mouth.

-

Jaehyun is fast asleep when Taeyong visits him during the night of Christmas Eve. He sits beside his hospital bed as usual, his eyes trained onto the faint bruises and red spots running along the side of Jaehyun’s neck. There is a box of tissue lying on top of the nearby coffee table, a few of them stained with dried blood. He cannot help but wince at the sight.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a bit, Taeyong-ssi.”

Taeyong turns to Jaehyun’s mother and smiles at her, nodding. “Thank you…”

The hospital room seems to have grown colder than the last time he visited. Sighing, he reaches out for Jaehyun’s hand, careful as to not move the needle stuck through the back of his palm. There are more tubes and needles connected to him now. They said they are needed to help him breathe and function. Taeyong does not understand it quite well. They seem to only be making it more difficult for Jaehyun.

He starts to caress Jaehyun’s cold palm with his thumb. “I won’t be able to visit you tomorrow, Jaehyun-ah,” he mutters quietly. Jaehyun remains fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. “I apologize in advance for that.”

Taeyong stares at Jaehyun’s pale and chapped lips, his eyebrows furrowing in deep pain and longing. “Hyung misses you,” he whispers, voice barely above a whisper. Jaehyun’s heart monitor still continues to beep, its noise enough to comfort Taeyong and let him know that Jaehyun is still with him. “We all do. It’s not the same without you.”

Sniffing, he pushes away a few strands of his hair away from his forehead. “Remember when I told you last year that we’re going to spend Christmas together? I don’t think it’ll happen, Jaehyun-ah,” he blinks away his tears, the tip of his nose reddening. “But we still have next year, right? We can still celebrate next year. We’ll have a party with the other trainees. We’ll eat food and exchange gifts. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Jaehyun starts to stir in his sleep, his chapped lips falling apart ever so lightly. Taeyong watches as his eyelids started to flutter open, his chocolate colored eyes seemingly vibrant against the paleness of his skin, his cheeks hollow and empty.

“Hyung?” he croaks, a smile immediately spreading across his lips upon seeing the older.

“Hey,” Taeyong sighs. “I’m just stopping by. How are you feeling?”

Jaehyun seems to melt against his hospital bed. “Tired,” he says. “I’m tired, hyung.”

Taeyong nods at him and ignores the slight stutter from his heart monitor. “Okay,” he says quietly, cleanching his fist. “I’ll let you rest now, then. I’ll see you soon?”

Jaehyun nods. “Good night, hyung.”

“Good night, Jaehyun.”

* * *

Jung Jaehyun passes away at December 25, 2014.

* * *

**January, 2015**

“He asked me to give it to you before he passed.”

Johnny hands over a small and white envelope. Taeyong stares at it, his hands slightly trembling. The lights inside the practice room seem to have grown dimmed.

“What’s this?” he asks.

Johnny shrugs, the bags hanging under his eyes heavier and darker now. “He didn’t tell.”

Sighing, he tears the paper open and finds a photograph of him and Jaehyun from almost a year ago with a letter attached to it. Johnny quietly excuses himself before leaving the room to give his friend some space.

“Shit,” Taeyong mutters under his breath, a tear escaping his eyes and staining the paper where the letter is written on. “You’re so unfair, Jaehyun-ah.”

_Dear Taeyong hyung,_

_First of all, I’d like to apologize. If you’re reading this already, then that only means one thing._

_~~To be honest, I’m still holding onto the tiniest chance that I might get through this, hyung, so hopefully you won’t ever have to see this letter. It’ll be my little secret.~~ _ _I’m giving this to Johnny hyung. He’ll be the one to give it to you soon. I’m sorry, hyung._

_I’ve always wanted to give you a letter similar to this. Maybe when we’re a bit older. In the future, perhaps? It’s in my list, hyung. List of things I wanted to give you. I didn’t expect to do it so early (sorry for my terrible handwriting by the way. My hands are getting weaker now, but I wanted to write everything by hand to make it seem more special hehe)_

_Are you still sad, hyung? It’s fine if you still do. But I hope you start feeling happy again soon. Smile a lot, hyung. Laugh a lot. Fall in love if you will. As long as you will be happy._

_Take care of yourself, hyung. And always remember that I believe in you. I’m proud of you. Perhaps, in a different universe, we’re still performing on the same stage and yearning for the same dream. I’ll always be here to support you, hyung. No matter what happens._

_My fate Taeyongie hyung, from trainee period until now, we completely didn’t fall apart. This is as good as fate, right? We’re already fated, so until death let’s be fated, hyung._

_I love you. I’ll be dreaming of you, hyung._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Jaehyun_


End file.
